Ballet Slippers
by ErinMEC
Summary: Rita and Iain drabble, around the concept of a pair of Ballet Slippers.


**So, I wanted to write a oneshot but I couldn't find a prompt, so I googled writing prompts and came across a list. On that list was 'Ballet Slippers', so that is what this short piece is centred around! If anyone has any prompts that they would like written, please do let me know! Enjoy!**

'Rita?'

She heard his voice coming from somewhere in her house and sighed slightly at the questioning tone, wondering what he had come across.

'What?' She yelled up the stairs.

'I need you!'

'Do you? Do you really?'

'I do. This is a life or death situation. Do you really want your boyfriend to die on your watch?' Rita exhaled deeply as she ascended the stairs.

'Where are you?'

'Keep climbing love.' Iain's cheeky tone called. So Rita kept going right up to the little door leading to her loft. She pushed the door open and couldn't stop the burst of laughter that came out of her mouth. Iain was sat in the middle of the room surrounded by Christmas decorations, some of which had made their way onto his body so he looked a little bit like a Christmas Elf. 'Are you laughing at me?' Iain started to frown, although Rita could tell he was winding her up.

'You know Iain, when you said you were in a life or death situation, I didn't think the murderer would be a load of tinsel… I mean I was expecting at least a spider.'

'Shut up.' Iain sulked, pulling the tinsel off of his head. 'You were the one that wanted me to check your decorations on the 1st of November, I mean we've not even had bonfire night yet!'

'Hey! I'm just being proactive! In fact I think I might need to replace a few things as everything is starting to look tattered… That is why I asked you to get them down! Now was there a reason for you dragging me up here?' Rita folded her arms and gave her best unimpressed look to the man sat in front of her.

'What are these?' Iain held up the items that had caught his attention, an old tattered pair of pointe shoes.

'Shoes.'

'Yeah, I can see they are shoes love, but what are they doing here?' Iain got up and crossed the room, confusion running through his face.

'Well, considering this is my loft, and everything else up here belongs to me, can you not work it out?' Rita smiled, amused at Iain's bewilderment. Iain looked at Rita, then the shoes, then back to Rita.

'They're yours?'

'Well done Sherlock.' Rita smirked. She turned and went back down the stairs, sat on her sofa and pulled her legs under her bum, with Iain not far behind. Still holding the pointe shoes, he joined her on the sofa and continued to study both her and the footwear.

'You wore these?' He asked. She nodded.

'On your feet?'

'Where else would I wear them you idiot?'

'But they look horrid to wear, making your feet all flat and duck like!' Iain exclaimed, holding the shoe out flat, marvelling at the awful design.

'Iain, you don't have flat feet when you wear them. Have you never seen a picture of a ballerina?'

'My little niece does ballet, and she doesn't have to wear these…' He said. Rita took the pointe shoe from him and pointed the toe towards the floor.

'This is how you wear pointe shoes. You go up onto your toes, so your leg is completely straight and perpendicular to the floor, foot included.'

'No way. I don't believe that! People's feet don't do that.'

Rita sighed. She knew there was only one solution.

'Iain, this was my first ever pair of pointe shoes. I did ballet when I was younger, and carried it on right up until I qualified as a nurse… I was never Darcey Bussell, but I was ok.'

'Who is Darcey Bussell?' Iain asked, gormlessly looking at Rita, still not convinced she was telling the truth.

'Look, I'll be right back, give me a minute.' Rita got up from the sofa and headed back upstairs. When she returned she had a newer and bigger pair of shoes with her, and she proceeded to put them on her feet.

'You're not serious? Are you actually going to try and stand on your tippy toes? You'll break them!' Iain watched as she tied the ribbons securely around her ankles, and stood. She stretched her feet a little, and practiced pointing her toes a few times before hopping up onto her toes. Iain exclaimed in shock, and covered his eyes.

'See, I told you! This is a real thing… Ballerinas do this, and it can look incredibly beautiful.' Rita explained patiently, getting reacquainted with the feeling of being on pointe. She started to walk around her living room, and even tried a couple of pirouettes before returning to the sofa. Iain watched her with curiosity, and started to smile at the joy on her face, he could tell Rita was loving every second of reliving her old life.

'Wow.' Iain smiled, picking up one of Rita's feet and gazing at the shoe. 'You really are beautiful.'

'Okay, are you talking to my foot or my face when you are saying that?' Rita giggled, pulling her foot from his reach. Iain pulled Rita into his side, kissing her head.

'Everything about you is beautiful. I love finding out new things about who you are, and I love the fact that you feel ok with telling me about this. In fact I think I love-' But Iain stopped himself. He silently cringed, wondering if he had said too much.

'It's ok. I think I love you too.' Rita replied quietly, burying her face into his chest. Iain put his hand to her chin, twisting her face to find his. His eyes shone with happiness, as he lent down and placed a chaste kiss onto her lips.

'I love you Rita Freeman. Ballerina extraordinaire.' They both chuckled, and snuggled into each other, grinning madly at what they had both just admitted. 'You know it does actually explain a lot.'

'What do you mean?' Rita queried, looking up into her gorgeous man's face.

'I had wondered what made you so goddamn flexible…'


End file.
